


The Give and The Take

by waywardelle



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, How weird is that, M/M, Non-AU AU, Season 9 Mockumentary, bottom!Jared, slightly sub!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardelle/pseuds/waywardelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an insane day on set, Jensen Ackles is trying to meditate alone in his trailer. He accidentally overhears his co-star, Jared "Call Me Sam" Padalecki on the phone with his mother, and that starts a chain of events over one night that changes his whole life, strangely enough, for the better. And maybe even forever. Based on the Jensen and Jared of the Season 9 Mockumentary (both the Original and Director's Cut).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Give and The Take

**Author's Note:**

> This started with me watching the Season 9 Mockumentary and thinking, "I still ship J2, and there's just not enough fic. Also, what's with the wig? And why is Jared such a jerk all the time? And what is Jensen *really* afraid of?" This fic is the result. This is not a crack fic. I couldn't help but give them motivations and backstories, and I didn't know how much I was gonna love these guys until I was writing them. I hope you love them, too.  
> PS: Take heed on the explicit warning. NSFW.  
> x-posted at pathossam.tumblr.com

Jensen feels like he’s in a trance from the constant flash of red and blue lights coming through the slats of his blinds, swirling around his dark trailer. It’s making him a little dizzy. 

He’s been trying to meditate, because he was really goddamned scared when the whole place went up like that, but he can’t drop into his quiet place. Those fucking lights are doing nothing to help, and he’s worked up enough that he’s about to go bark at someone about it, but then he hears his co-star’s voice and it makes him shrink back into himself. 

Talk about scared. Jensen can’t help it, though. Jared isn’t-- he’s not-- he’s a good guy, Jensen thinks, or at least has the potential to be. He's witnessed Jared being kind-- just usually, there's a star in the East or something when that happens. And he’s not exactly scared of him; he’s just not interested. Jensen has spent a lot of time gaining patience and control from what was once a hectic lifestyle (he hasn't always been vegan, okay, and he wasn't really lying to the interviewers when he said he and Dean had a lot in common when he took the job), and his co-star's hectic energy and loud demands of the crew make him anxious. Jared’s never presented himself as a deep well, or something, and Jensen doesn’t like the gym. He likes tai chi. He gets worked up when he can’t meditate; Jared gets worked up when one of his mirror girls messes up the angle to check a text. 

He’s seen flashes of sweetness, though, in the past nine years. It’s impossible not to know each other well, despite there being no intimacy with the closeness. He doesn’t know Jared, but he knows him. Acting is weird, man. And after all these years, Jensen can’t help but wonder what causes such strange, erratic, arrogant, outlandish behavior in a man-- insecurity, maybe? 

“Mama, I’m fine,” Jared says, his voice a lot softer than Jensen’s ever heard it, and he kind of grins at the Texan accent slipping out. It happens to him, too-- thirty minutes back home, and he’s y’all’ing with the best of them. “I didn’t get burnt. The, uh. The paramedics checked me over real good. They take care of me, mama.” Jensen realizes he ran right out of that warehouse without a second thought for Jared, which makes him feel really terrible all of a sudden. 

Jensen crouches lower towards the window, trying to get a glimpse of his co-star. He’s suddenly invested in this conversation. You know, the one that’s none of his business. 

He catches sight of him, leaning against the side of Jensen’s trailer, about fifteen feet down. Jared’s skin looks pale against the rotating lights, and his posture is more slumped than Jensen’s ever seen. One of the reasons Jared is so intimidating is he knows exactly how big he is, and he makes sure everyone else is aware of it, too. He holds himself up tall and strong, proud of his height-- he doesn’t slump. He doesn’t look defeated. 

Except apparently, he does. 

Jensen can’t pinpoint what exactly is different until Jared says, “no, it’s fine. I was wearin’ the back-up,” and Jensen almost chokes on his tongue. That is Jared’s _bald head._ Except it’s not really bald-- kind of fuzzy, longer in different places. Almost like he gave himself a drunken buzzcut a couple months ago. What the _hell?_ It’s hard to see, but Jared starts moving closer to Jensen’s window while listening to his mom. Jensen ducks, feeling all of five years old. 

“Yes, I promise I’ll rub some aloe on it.” Jared’s patience is running thin, Jensen can tell. He’s more hunched in on himself than ever, and it must be the trance the lights have him in, but it’s making him hurt with empathy. “It’s just tender, mama. Like a sunburn. It’ll be fine. Yeah, okay. Okay. Naw, please don’t tell Pop. I’d do it again, mama. In a second. Okay. Love you, too. Bye.”

With a long sigh, Jared hangs up the phone call. He stands by Jensen’s trailer for a minute longer, looking down at nothing on his phone. Then he clicks it to black and starts heading for his own trailer.

Before Jensen really knows what he’s doing, he’s grabbing something from his mini-fridge and all but races out of his trailer. 

“Jared!” he hisses, trying to be quiet. 

Jared’s back is to him, so he can’t see his facial expression, but he can imagine it. His shoulders go tight, and then slump in, like he’s resigned to being humiliated. What _happened_ to this guy? 

“You gonna mock me, too?” he asks quietly, not turning.

“What?” Jensen asks, pulling his robe a little tighter. He is seriously underdressed for February in Vancouver. “Uh, no. I, uh. Wanted to see if you were okay.” 

That gets Jared to turn. He stares Jensen down from ten feet away, eyes narrowed, posture hard. Like he’s about to tell Jensen to go fuck himself. Jensen’s accepted that as a possible reaction, but he’s gotta _try_.

Something unhooks in Jared, because his shoulders sag again. This big mountain of a man, crumbly at his foundations. “What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the bottle in Jensen’s hand. 

“Oh,” Jensen says, flushing. He almost forgot. “I didn’t mean to overhear, but I. You know, did. And… this stuff is the best, really works. It’s, um, organic.” 

It’s organic. _Brilliant,_ Jensen. Like that explains why he’s suddenly caring about Jared outside of Sam, and how all it took was the defeated set of his co-star’s shoulders. It prickled this feeling down his neck; this crazy urge to go to him, shield him from what’s hurt him, kick a couple asses if he has to (he’s never kicked an ass in his life, off camera). It’s straight-up Dean Winchester, the need to fix the look on that kid’s face. But it’s Jensen, too. He just never thought Jared would set off that part of his brain. He’s not entirely unconvinced it’s not just a fluke adrenaline thing.

He holds out the chilled bottle of aloe vera, feeling kind of rude for not offering him a coconut water, too. Jared really looks like he could use a cleanse. The aloe stays in his hand, damp against the brisk night air, for a couple uncomfortable beats before Jared’s long fingers dart out to claim it.

“Thank you,” Jared says gratefully, a little Austin lilt still in his voice, and it’s probably the most sincere and uncomplicatedly nice thing Jared’s ever said to him. “I was just trying to rush my mama off the phone, so. I didn’t really have any aloe, and I, uh. Didn’t get the, uh, wig,” he winces around the word, and Jensen tries not to grin, “off in time before it burnt me a little.”

“But the paramedics--”

“Were laughing with everyone else,” Jared snaps, tense again. His fingers close around the bottle of aloe tightly, and then release when he sighs. “Anyway. Thanks.” 

Jensen should let him go, let him keep walking to his trailer. He’s gotta be exhausted, and in pain. He almost wishes he believed in synthetic pharmaceuticals so he could offer Jared some Vicodin. But for some reason, the ‘message received’ part of his brain tells him he didn’t quite express what he hoped Jared would hear, and to try harder. 

“Did I ever tell you,” Jensen starts, quiet. They’re the only two people around, no doubt why Jared slunk away back here without even Clif in tow, “that I burnt my eyebrows off right before my senior prom?”

Jared spins, and there’s this big, genuine smile on his face that Jensen is sure he has never seen. If he had, he’d have been working a lot harder to get those smiles, and he’s not sure what to do with the knowledge that they exist. 

“Seriously? Mr. Gorgeous Face damaged the goods?” Jared is smiling like that’s just too good, best thing he’s heard in awhile. Somehow, he knows it’s not because Jared is delighting in his suffering, rather, his humanness. 

“Yeah, seriously,” he chuckles, a little flustered by the descriptor. Jared’s never made mention of Jensen’s physical attractiveness. Probably the only person he’s worked with who hasn’t, in fact. Jared mostly comments on his own, and no one else’s. 

“My date dumped me,” Jensen continues, watching Jared watch him, stepping a little closer, “and it was too last minute to get anyone else-- not that anyone would _have_ me, but yeah. I didn’t go to my senior prom because I blasted them off with the Bunsen burner. I looked perpetually surprised,” he raises his eyebrows towards his hairline, miming them disappearing, “for weeks. They’re still fuzzy. Never grew back in right because of the scar tissue.”

Jared laughs again, a short exhale of air. “You are so lying.”

“Come see for yourself!” He thrusts his chin forward for Jared’s inspection. Jensen wants him to close that last couple feet between them so badly, and he still can’t figure out why. He’s never been attracted to Jared in more than a ‘yeah, he’s hot and he knows it’ way, but something about him smiling and laughing and looking embarrassed and thankful-- that humanity, the vulnerability shining out of his eyes… it’s making him a little irresistible. Wig or no wig.

Jared steps closer again, slowly, like he’s used to Jensen acting like a cornered animal around him. He’s not really _scared_ of Jared, per se, and he’s certainly not now. He just tries to keep negative energy out of his life, and he was convinced Jared was full of it. Plus, like he said before, he didn’t see an inch of commonality between him and his co-star, aside from the Texas upbringing. He didn’t really understand Jared, but. He didn’t really try to, either, did he?

He really, inexplicably wants to try now.

Jared reaches out a hand, slow, like Jensen's a spooked horse, until his long fingers meet Jensen’s eyebrow. He strokes his thumb over one slowly, like he wants to touch, fan out every single hair. It’s the strangest sensation, light and almost ticklish, like Jared is holding something back on purpose. 

Jensen takes in a deep breath, backing away a foot or so. Jared smells like smoke and a fresh shower, and it’s a little intoxicating. It’s going to his head quicker than his sleepy time tea. 

“You want me to look at your scalp? See if it’s bad?” He can’t offer a medical professional’s opinion, really, but if it looks bad, he can drive Jared to the hospital and demand some _actual_ attention, and stand there looking menacing (he _is_ Dean Winchester, after all) if anyone tries to laugh at his co-star again.

“You’re not gonna,” Jared starts like a question, but seems to think better of it. “Jensen, I know I don’t have a leg to stand on, but if this is some elaborate hoax to get pictures of me bald on the internet, can you just hurry up and take them so I can get some sleep?” He sounds so young, then-- pent up, wary. Jensen knows how the crew feels about Jared, and they probably found it just desserts and hilarious. 

That makes Jensen’s usually calm insides start to boil. He doesn’t know if it’s Dean responding to the _Sam_ in Jared’s tone, his resigned posture, but he physically reaches out like his fictional counterpart would. He tucks his cold hand under Jared’s elbow to squeeze it gently, almost affectionately.

“I would never do that, Jared,” Jensen tells him, firmly. They’re both from Texas, that one hold between them, so hopefully Jared will understand that his word is his bond, like he was raised for it to be.

“I think I knew that,” Jared smiles finally, letting Jensen tug him towards the trailer.

Jensen opens the door, gesturing Jared in first. “Can you take your shoes off at the door, please? And don’t mess with the feng shui.”

Jared steps in, toeing off his tennis shoes next to Jensen’s moccasins. Jensen leans over the couch to flip on the lamp light, and Jared actually ducks away from Jensen seeing him.

“Oh, come on,” Jensen laughs. Jared literally stepped around the corner, back into the stairwell, hiding. “I’ve already seen it, big guy. It’s not pretty, but I won’t laugh at you.”

“You’re laughing right now,” Jared’s voice grumbles from around the corner. 

“I’m laughing with you.”

“I’m not laughing!”

“Jared,” he insists, voice firm, testing a little hunch. “Come here.”

Jensen sits on his couch, tucking his legs up underneath him, smiling to himself just a little fondly. He’s a patient man, doesn’t mind waiting. Especially for this, for what he thinks might happen here tonight. 

Jared storms all the way in, finally, eyes wide and a little wet. Their gazes lock, then Jared’s drops quickly to his hairnet thing he’s wringing between his fingers. “It, um. It hasn’t always been a wig, you know. Just this last little while, actually. Of course this would happen while that cute fan with the camera was here.”

That gets Jensen’s attention. He can’t say he’s paid too much notice to Jared’s hairstyles over the years, but he was always suspicious of anyone having hair that pretty. “Seriously?”

Jared shoots him a look, runs a nervous hand over his fluffy scalp. “Yeah, really.” The smiling is back, though, at least a little-- like he knows he was just acting like a five year old, but won’t say it. He sits suddenly, right in front of Jensen, tucking his legs criss-cross applesauce. 

“You’re really limber,” Jensen notes, maybe a little inappropriately if the flush blooming on the apple’s of Jared’s cheeks are any indication. “For uh, someone your size.” Wow, that helps a lot. Be _quiet_ , Jensen. “Jared, either give me the aloe vera or go find a shovel for me to dig myself deeper in this hole.”

Jared’s mouth twitches, and those dimples carve a quick hole before filling back in. He hands over the aloe, then turns his back to Jensen. Slowly, he tips his head back towards Jensen’s thigh, like he intends on resting it there. Jensen doesn’t stop him, and the warm weight of it is… really, really nice, actually. 

“All right, let’s take a look.” Jensen squirts the cold gel into the palm of his hand. “Should I avoid the hair and just put it on the skin I see?”

“Get the whole thing,” Jared tells him from behind closed eyes. Jensen knows if Jared had his sunglasses right now, they’d be in place. That makes him grin; maybe, he knows Jared a little better than he previously thought. “Washing the gunk out is way better than accidentally missing a spot that needed it.”

“Right,” Jensen says, because obviously. He’s just… Jared is suddenly so docile, trusting, leaning back against him like they’ve been shouldering each other’s weight for years. Jensen wonders if his shyness, his reticence to see more underneath that obvious defense mechanism of Jared’s-- the dickish, diva behavior-- has robbed him of a good friendship. 

As he begins to massage the goop through Jared’s scalp, he can’t help but think of how it could have been different. What if, instead of turning to themselves-- or their workouts, their tai chi-- what if they had turned to each other? 

“I shaved it off during hiatus,” Jared tells him quietly, like he’s in his own trance now. “My mom was, uh, diagnosed with breast cancer last November. Lost all of her hair over Christmas break, really freaked her out. I completely understood how important her hair was to her-- mine is almost a trademark, you know?” 

Jensen smiles at that, that little glimmer of the diva shining through. It makes him feel weirdly fond, and a little protective. 

“I didn’t know how else to tell her I didn’t care, so.” He shrugs indifferently, seeming way more interested in Jensen’s touch than revealing such a tender part of his life. It’s like he’s just been waiting for someone to ask. For someone to care enough to ask. God, he hates hindsight sometimes. 

Never in a million years would Jensen have ever believed that of Jared. He didn’t think the man was capable of such caring and depth, and the fact that he’s brushing it off makes it all the more… amazing, really. Jensen’s really, really pissed at himself-- he’s not solely to blame, no, because Jared has been… unpleasant, for lack of a better word. But he’s always prided himself on seeing the good in everyone, and not judging a book by its cover. That’s exactly what he’s done to Jared, without malice, all these years.

“It looks okay to me,” Jensen says finally, hands pausing on Jared’s fuzzy scalp. The aloe’s been rubbed in for a good minute, but Jared seems to enjoy the touching because he has done nothing but settle deeper into the couch at his back, and make encouraging little hums that sound tinny and sweet through his nose. “Jared?”

“Hmmm?” His pleased little moans at all the attention are firing some cylinders in Jensen’s lizard brain. It’s been months since he’s wanted to be free with another soul like this, share his body with someone else. He can’t believe it’s Jared. Of all people, it’s Jared who’s making his dick chub up in his boxer briefs, just underneath his robe.

“I’m sorry, you know.” Jensen rubs his thumb behind the crease of Jared’s ear as he says this, firm pressure to the occipital bone, which he happens to know feels lovely from a trigger points seminar he went to a few months back.

“What the hell for?” Jared asks, one eye cracking open. “You’re nice to everyone, Jensen. Even me. You’re just.. reserved, I guess.”

“For…” Jensen has no idea _what_ he’s apologizing for, really, but it feels important that he does. “All of it, I guess. I know you aren’t a bad guy, Jared. No one could make Sam Winchester come to life like that without every inch of his own soul being just as deep, and kind.” Jensen clears his throat, finally moving his hands away. “In my opinion, anyway.”

Jared shifts his big body around to face Jensen. He looks sheepish, almost, and nuzzles his forehead against the hand Jensen still has raised. It compels him to start scratching along the tufts of soft, downy hair, which by Jared’s pleased moan, was exactly what he was after. 

It takes a couple minutes of comfortable silence before Jared yawns, “There’s nothing to apologize for. I know how I act around here.” He shrugs, looking at his knees. Jared is what, thirty-one? Thirty-two? It bothers him that he has no idea. He shouldn’t be able to look like such a lost little boy, at any rate.

“Why do you, then?” Jensen wonders, curling his fingers around Jared’s shoulders, pressing in. Another deep groan, another trigger point Jensen is trying to work out. “I think I’m starting to gather that you’re not really like that at all.”

“Easier, I guess,” Jared answers after a minute of picking at the thread on his jeans. “You really intimidated me when we started to work together, so I guess I… I don’t know, overcompensated? I mean, don’t sell me short-- I knew I was acting like an asshole. Don’t excuse me, just because there’s a compelling story behind it. It’s just, you’re an amazing actor, and I was some lanky kid. I felt like everyone knew you were the better one. I, uh, still don’t know how I landed this gig.”

“I think it’s our chemistry,” Jensen deadpans, mocking the countless articles published about the sparks that explode between Sam and Dean every time they’re on camera together. He also notes Jared asking to not be forgiven-- like he thinks he hasn’t earned that yet. Another tick in the box of where this is heading. “For the record, Jared, you’re top billing, you know? You’re an incredible actor, especially in these last few years. The whole Sam-Zeke-Gadreel switch was amazing.”

Jared doesn’t say anything, but he’s smiling a little at his knees. “Thanks, Jensen.”

After a couple beats where they smile at nothing and refuse to make eye contact, Jensen clears his throat and tries again. “So you basically acted like an ass because you were afraid I was an ass?”

“I guess?” Jared scrunches up his nose, and it shouldn’t be cute. Shouldn’t be. “You never talked to me, man. I get now that you’re really reserved, a little shy for some reason, and it’s, uh…” He grins suddenly, bright, and it’s a bit devastating. “It’s kinda sweet,” he whispers, smiling at his knees, "you runnin' from me all the time. Makes a man want to give chase."

Jensen is _not_ a blusher, but he swears he's purple, hearing it described like that. Like he was being coy, instead of freaked out. It shouldn't be such a stirring visual.

"Anyway," Jared continues, like he didn't just completely disarm Jensen. "It just built from there, and pretty soon it was my persona. It’s like Sam, easy to slip in when I step on set. The damage has been done, man.”

“You know,” Jensen says after a few minutes of taking that in, “I could never understand how this shallow, ‘roid rage--”

“I have never taken a steroid in my life!” Jared yelps.

“--asshole could bring such depth to someone like Sam. You two seemed nothing alike in my head. I couldn’t reconcile it.” Jensen smiles, and it feels like a million puzzle pieces are coming together inside him. 

“Yeah? And what do you think now?” Jared’s closer. Jensen didn’t notice him move, but there’s a heavy hand on his thigh that wasn’t there ten seconds ago. He looks down at it, and Jared snatches it away like it burned to touch. 

Jensen hadn’t given Jared permission to touch him-- not that he needed it, god, but if he wants it (and all that implication entails), Jensen’ll give it to him. The last piece of the puzzle falls into place, and this is why Jensen trusts the instincts he spends so many hours of meditation in touch with. They’re nearly always right.

“Oh,” Jensen smiles, and he hopes it doesn’t look as shark-like as it feels. “I know just what to do with a sweet thing like you.” He feels Jared’s shiver, Jensen’s thumb resting against the pulse point in Jared’s neck. The feeling of it speeding up underneath his skin is heady.

It seems impossible to him that someone like Jared has been here all this time, just waiting for someone to stop thinking of him as The Big Joke he created to protect himself. It makes him mourn time wasted, and vow that whatever could be between them, he’s going to start chinking away at that armor--right fuckin’ now. 

They consider each other for what seems like forever, and then Jared is moving, wiggling his long body on top of Jensen, straddling his lap, settling there like it’s just as familiar a resting place as the Impala’s passenger seat. 

Jared tilts his forehead to Jensen’s, and they breathe for a moment. Jensen is good at counting breaths, usually. When all the blood in his body isn’t racing south, that is. And when the breaths he’s taking in don’t smell like the mint of Jared’s gum, and something deeply masculine. When he doesn’t have that gorgeous man in his lap, all but begging for what Jared has figured out about Jensen, and wants badly. 

Jensen wants to give it to him.

“Please,” Jared whispers finally, and it gets caught in a moan as Jensen clamps down on his bottom lip with his incisors. Jared whimpers into his mouth when Jensen tugs harshly, and it gets heated fast from there.

“You want me, Jared?” Jensen asks, going for consent to begin. He’ll have to check in on Jared as they go along, because this is new and he’ll hate himself if he fucks this up, and he needs to hear Jared explicitly state it. 

“God, yes,” Jared moans against his mouth, panting. “You, just-- all that control, all that patience, I want it, I--I _need_ it, p-please--”

“Hush,” Jensen barks, soothing the harsh noise with a gentle run of his hands down Jared’s flanks. “Stand up and take off your clothes for me, beautiful.”

Jared does, flushing and unsteady, his knees seeming to all but wobble in air as he tries to fight his tight white undershirt over his head. He moves to his belt just as quickly, fingers fumbling through the leather. He pops the button to his jeans, and they fall to his ankles with a heavy thump.

“Commando?” Jensen asks, smiling with a raised eyebrow. “You sure you weren’t angling for this, sweetheart?”

Jared keeps still, hands balled at his sides, and doesn’t say a word against that little taunt. That gets Jensen more than he can say-- Jared wasn’t given permission to speak, and he knows it, so it seems he knows exactly what’s going on here, what he’s asking for, and he wants it, badly. He wants to give Jensen pleasure with that gorgeous body, wants to be told exactly how to do it. Wants someone to treat him with reverence, with thanks, gratitude for giving up his control instead of exploiting it.

“You’re very beautiful, Jared,” Jensen tells him softly, stretching a hand to run down his bare thigh. Jared is rock hard and dripping-- god only knows how long Jared’s been like this, squirming and getting worked up over the simplest affection: a head rub. “You gonna be my sweet boy, hmm?”

“Yes,” Jared bleats, looking lost without a clear order behind that. “Please. If. If you’ll have me.”

“I think I will,” Jensen tells him, trailing his eyes up those Playgirl-ready abs, slightly hairy chest and tight, brown little nipples he wants to suck on until Jared cries. There’s something deeper in what Jensen said, though-- does he want to have Jared right now? Yes. But he’s got a feeling he’s gonna want to have him for much longer than that. 

“To your knees. Legs spread.” He points to the spread of his own bowed legs, and Jared settles there, naked as the day he was born, strung-tight, begging with his body for Jensen’s still-clothed form. 

“Put your hands behind your back, crossed at the wrists.” Jared obeys quickly, head ducking down like he’s almost ashamed of the beauty in his submission. No, like he doesn't know just how beautiful his submission is to Jensen. “Jared, pick your safeword.”

“Colors. Colors work best for me.” He’s rotating his hips slightly, both like he’s trying to keep blood flow in his lower extremities and like he’s searching for any friction, any at all, against that pretty, weeping cock of his.

“Tell me, then.”

“Green is good. Yellow is I’m uncomfortable, let’s talk about this. Red is stop immediately, no questions asked.” Jared looks to Jensen for approval; he wants someone to be proud of him so goddamn badly. He looks down just as quickly, though. Jensen is determined that by the end of this-- whenever that may be-- Jared will be able to look him in the eye and ask for what he wants without a trace of embarrassment. 

“That's real good, sweet boy.” He brushes a quick kiss against Jared’s collar bone before leaning back again, surveying. 

“Now, listen. There is no wrong here,” Jensen tells him, pinching Jared’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Look at me.” Jared’s eyes dart up to his-- they are blown wide and proffering, literally, at Jensen’s feet. “What you’re giving me is a gift, Jared. I don’t know your history with this, but you seem at least somewhat familiar. Hasn’t anyone explained to you that you actually hold all the power? Don't you know how beautiful you are like this? Now,” Jensen barks, tone changing so fast that Jared jumps. His fingers tighten briefly around Jared’s chin, then he releases him. “Suck me.”

Jared immediately uncrosses his hands from behind his back to tug at the tie from Jensen’s robe. 

“Did I tell you to remove your hands from behind your back?” Jensen asks, his voice level.

“No,” Jared whispers, whipping them back into position. “No, sir.”

Jensen shakes his head again, and Jared slumps. This is what Jensen was afraid of-- Jared taking personally the reprimands Jensen must give him in order for this to play out the right way. 

“I understand changing the name to separate the man you know from the man you want to fuck, Jared. I just don’t want to be called sir.”

“M-master?” Jared tries again. He sounds so out of his element, confused and a little afraid (and that makes Jensen incredibly angry at whatever sloppy, asshole “dom” got his hooks into Jared first), but Jared’s dick is still fully interested, almost pouring a steady stream of pre-come onto the carpet below him, where his pretty cock is bobbing between his spread legs. 

Jensen smiles, leaning forward. He realizes with an ache he’s yet to really kiss that mouth, and he wants that more than anything. But Jared backs away, even though he can’t stop staring at Jensen’s lips. 

“I haven’t earned it yet,” Jared whispers, flushing. “I need to deserve to kiss you.”

“Okay,” Jensen says softly. In his opinion, Jared never needs a reason-- it’s making his head spin, these thoughts he’s having, this side of him awakened after years of trying to master the control freak inside. He thought he had a hold of it-- he hasn’t done this in years, but one glance into Jared’s psyche, and Jensen wants be the one to give Jared what he needs. Whatever that may be. “How about you just call me Jen?”

That, more than anything, seems to get through to Jared. That no matter what happens here, Jensen refuses to disassociate from this. He wants Jared to use his name. He wants to hear it. Not to mention, he himself hasn’t earned the right to be called Jared’s anything. 

“Jen,” Jared repeats, like the word is cloying and sweet and heady on his tongue. Like he wants that taste there all the time, and Jensen wants to give it to him. “Can I suck you, Jen?”

“Only your mouth,” Jensen reminds him, and then leans back into the couch to watch Jared figure it out. 

It doesn’t take long-- thirty seconds later, Jared swallows Jensen’s cock all the way down his throat in one impressive drop and holds there, waiting. 

“I don’t want to fuck your mouth,” Jensen tells him, unable to stop his hips from screwing up into Jared’s hot throat, just once. “Yet,” he amends. “Right now, I want you to do the work. Show me what I’ve been missing.”

Jared has him close to blowing within minutes, with those words to incite him. The combination of his hot mouth, wicked tongue, and those sweet, mewling little noises are driving him absolutely insane. 

“Enough,” he pants, drawing Jared back with a grip to the back of his neck. “Can’t wait to tug on that pretty hair of yours.” He runs his thumb down Jared’s cheekbone, his fat, swollen mouth panting against Jensen’s still denim-clad hip. 

“Up,” Jensen tells him. “Bend over the couch for me, show me that pretty hole.”

Jared does, almost tripping over his long limbs in his haste. Jensen strips himself efficiently, laying his things neatly over the nearest chair. 

He bends over Jared, letting his weight rest against the gorgeous play of skin over Jared’s back. The muscles are strong, tense, and Jensen sinks his teeth into the bunch right by his neck. 

Jared punches out a breath, body jolting.

“Is it just the control, Jared? Being sweet for me? Or do you like a little pain, too?” He runs his hands down Jared’s chest, feeling for the tight peaks he clamps between his fore and middle fingers. 

That move causes Jared to nearly head-butt Jensen, but years of moving together in fight scenes has him dodging it easily. “I-- I don’t know,” Jared whines, hips churning. 

“That’s okay,” Jensen murmurs, alternating bites and kisses down his spine. “We can have all the time in the world to figure you out, if you want.” Before Jared has time to respond, Jensen parts his asscheeks and groans. 

“Look at you,” he breathes, sealing a kiss right against Jared’s hole. He allows himself to get a good taste, flattening his tongue against Jared's cute little asshole, then circles the flushed, dark pink rim languidly, humming, getting Jared absolutely soaked with spit. One more quick suck, then he moves away just as quickly, and Jared groans his displeasure. It earns him a sharp slap on his left cheek.

Jared falls forward then, forearms collapsing finally. “Can you-- yellow, Jen?” It comes out unsure. 

“Talk to me, baby,” Jensen says, rifling through his ‘man drawer’ for lube and a condom. “What’s the matter?”

“I want to have my own name, too,” Jared pants into the couch. “I get to call you Jen. I want a name that’s just yours, too.”

He pauses to think, then, “Okay, Jay," and Jared shudders underneath him. He knows he hit the nail on the head, and he smiles into the gorgeous curve of Jared’s lower back. “What color we at now?”

“Green,” he breathes, and Jensen has his cheeks spread with one finger inside and a second threatening within the next second. “Oh, god, green, fuck--” 

“There’s something you need to know about me, Jay,” Jensen says conversationally, as he shifts his finger inside that gorgeous, silken heat to push the second one in. Jared takes it beautifully, back arching even deeper. “I haven’t done this in a real long time. So I need you to be honest with me-- tell me the truth. There are no repercussions for telling the truth. Lying, however-- I won’t be able to ignore that, because like I said, you really hold all the cards. If I don’t know you’re not okay, I can’t stop. I can’t know you’re not okay unless you’re honest. Obviously, as time goes on, if we continue, I’ll learn your cues, but I’ll always depend on your words, first. And I’m not afraid to punish you, Jay. ” 

He wouldn’t really punish Jared for messing this up-- at least not yet, in these first few times. There are bound to be starts and stops, like there are in any new relationship. But Jared just clenches tightly around his fingers, and Jensen can’t imagine that being in protest of the idea. He stabs his fingers in deeper, rougher, while the other hand fiddles with the condom, getting it rolled on and snug. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer. Can you do that for me, sweet thing?”

“Yes, Jen, god--” Jensen didn’t know a man could whimper so prettily, but he’s so grateful to Jared for showing him. “I p-promise, I _swear._ ”

He pulls his fingers away slowly, tugging on the rim just to hear Jared yelp again. “On your back,” he instructs, making a circular motion with his finger. “I want to see that gorgeous face.”

“ _Yes,_ thank you, thank you, Jen,” Jared moans, arching up towards him as Jensen settles his weight over Jared’s flushed, sweaty body. 

Jensen thumbs Jared’s pretty, swollen mouth. “I think you deserve a kiss. What do you think?”

“Please,” Jared groans. He takes the kiss from Jensen, instead of waiting for it to be given, so he clearly thinks he deserves this one-- and that just makes Jensen even hotter, that streak of arrogance giving Jared confidence in the expression of his sexuality, right now. He wants this, and Jensen won’t have to even pretend like he’s taking this from Jared (some people get off on that, he doesn’t judge), when Jared is giving it up to him so beautifully, knowingly. 

Their mouths are soft with an edge, because Jensen is suddenly so deep into this he doesn’t even know which way is up. He wants to give Jared his affection with his passion, keep him crazy but cognizant, so Jared knows exactly who is doing this to him. He brushes his tongue against Jared’s lips, and they open so sweetly, and while Jared is distracted, Jensen starts feeding his cock into Jared’s relaxed hole.

Jared makes a startled, high-pitched whine into his mouth, his hand immediately going down to his fat, swollen dick. Jensen almost bats it away, until he sees that it’s not to make pleasure, but to stave it off. Jared’s gripping the base so tightly, his knuckles are white. It’s not an easy ride, either-- Jared is tight as hell, and two fingers weren’t nearly enough, and he keeps clenching around him like it hurts, but also like he couldn’t stand it if Jensen pulled out. Besides, he wants Jared to feel him for weeks. He wants him to remember, because Jensen knows he will never, ever forget this night. 

“Hurts,” Jared moans, but it sounds like a good thing, the way it rolls out of his mouth, like melted sugar all over his tongue. Jared cants his hips up higher, and Jensen gets one long, muscular leg over his shoulder. He keeps pressing in, working against all that tight, unfucked muscle. “I've n-never--”

Jensen halts his forward momentum, and that makes Jared whine, nearly claw Jensen’s back up with his urgency to keep Jensen sinking inside. “Hands spreading your ass and nowhere else until I say,” he grits out around the pain. He, himself, does not appreciate a little pain with his pleasure, but that’s not the issue here.

“Please, please tell me,” Jensen begins softly, nudging his nose against Jared’s cheekbone. He can feel Jared’s fingers twitching against his upper thighs from where they’re pulling his sore little hole even farther apart. “Please tell me you’ve had sex with a man before.”

“I have, Jen. I swear,” he pants, trying so hard to be good, to not thrust up on Jensen’s thick cock, buried and still inside him, forcing apart that sensitive muscle. “J-just, ah, never, oh, _fuck_ , please--”

“Never what,” Jensen grouses with a sharp thrust that snaps Jared’s mouth wide open, working against the sounds he can’t force past his throat. “That what you want?” He gives another deep thrust, and Jared’s spine seems to melt into the couch. He stops again, and Jared’s pants are getting frustrated. “Then keep talking.”

“Never b-bottomed before,” he sighs finally, fingers clenching against his asscheeks. “It’s torture not to touch you, Jen.”

Something about that blatant, sweet honesty coupled with the overprotective, claiming feeling he gets in his gut to hear Jared hasn’t experienced this before him, that no one but him knows the way this gorgeous body arches up into every touch, so responsive and disarmingly sexy-- it does something to him. Something inside him snaps, and he wonders if the whole reason he thought he needed to tamper this side of him was because he hadn’t yet experienced just how mind-numbingly good it could be. That’s not to say he’s never had good sex before-- he’s thirty-six, okay?-- but. This is just--

“Chemistry,” Jensen laughs, slowly grinding his cock in and out of a mewling, incoherent Jared. “Guess they were right after all, huh, Jay? Touch me, baby. Need it so bad.”

Jared wraps his long, shapely legs around Jensen’s waist and pulls him down for a fierce kiss. When given permission, Jared has no problem taking control, and Jensen groans against Jared’s mouth-- one of the few involuntary noises he’s allowed to slip, and Jared clenches hard around him at the sound.

“Gonna fuck this used little hole of yours ‘til I come,” Jensen grits, biting at Jared’s swollen, red mouth. “You do not have permission to come yet, understand?”

Jared moans in what Jensen assumes is agreement, but he pats him on the face to get his eyes to focus. “This is gonna be fast and hard, Jay. Green?”

“Fuck,” Jared bites, “yes. Just _fuck_ me already, you fucking tease. Just wait ‘til I get you on your back--”

Jensen is magnanimous enough to let that slide, because there’s gorgeous, wet heat around his cock. He tells Jared to bear down, and finally, he's to the root. The man letting him use his insides is staring up at him like he’s never seen anything quite like him, and Jensen wants to prove him right.

He gives Jared one full, slow thrust of his hips, letting him experience the intense friction for a moment. Then, Jensen nails him to the couch with the force and speed and strength behind his hips, the sound of their sweaty skin slapping and slicking together adding to the million different things contributing to the orgasm Jensen’s working on. Still on his forearms, he gets up on his knees, tighter into Jared’s body and just _lets go_ , pounding him so hard, there are tears running down Jared’s face. But he hasn’t safe-worded, he just said he was green, so--

“God,” Jared bites, grabbing hard at Jensen’s ass like he could make him go even harder. “Lemme be yours, Jen, please, wanna be--”

Jensen shouts as he comes, and the hand Jared slaps over his mouth makes his eyes roll back into his head as his hips jerk, emptying into the condom inside Jared. He’d-- fuck, he’d wanted to pull out, come on Jared’s hole, eat him out until he cried and his dick was purple, then let him come down Jensen’s throat. He wasn’t expecting the visceral reaction to Jared’s words, but he’ll wait to acknowledge them until after Jared’s come. People say a lot they don’t mean when their dick is about to pop off, so he figures it’s only fair.

God, he hopes Jared means it.

“Can I come,” Jared wheezes, “please, Jen, _please_ \--”

Jensen screws his still hard-enough cock deeper into Jared, then wraps his boy's big, gorgeous dick deep into his palm. Half a dozen rough pulls, and Jared comes hard, hips jerking wildly, biting his own fist to not yell out. The first pulse almost hits Jared's chin, and the rest slicks up his stomach and Jensen's fingers.

Jensen pulls out quickly, knowing the softer he gets, the more painful it’ll be for the both of them. He ties off the condom and throws it in the direction of the trash can. Jared is still shaking, staring up at him, glassy-eyed. He looks like he’s either about to cry or bolt or both, but that’s okay. Jensen knows how to help.

“C’mon, beautiful boy,” he whispers against Jared’s cheek, kissing the tear-stained tracks down to his mouth. “The bed’s not far, and it’s better than this.”

Jared lets himself be steered down the short hallway, into the back of the trailer where a king-sized bed takes up most of the space. Jared hesitates, flickering unsure eyes back to Jensen, so he shoves him, gently. It takes a lot not to smile at the squawk and ungainly, naked sprawl Jared lands in, so he doesn’t try.

Jared quickly arranges himself on his back, eyes wide as he watches Jensen crawl over him. He presses kisses everywhere he can, all over Jared’s face, around his ears, biting gently at his collarbone, sucking a tiny mark there. A place on Jared’s body that’s just his. 

"You were so good, Jared," Jensen whispers against the skin there, then rubs his mouth up Jared's throat, across his jaw, and finally to those bitten-raw lips that have finally stopped quivering. "So fuckin' beautiful, taking everything I gave you." He melts a kiss against Jared's mouth that has them both sighing into it. "Thank you for giving me this." He trails his hand down Jared's long torso, palming his soft cock, before dipping behind his balls to lightly press against his hole. "You sore, baby? Let me take a look, hmm? I rode your pretty little ass hard." 

Jared lets him look, eventually (nothing is damaged, just inflamed and tender), and the tension in his muscles finally melts when it clicks with him just how nowhere Jensen is going. They curl together, Jared’s face tucked into Jensen’s neck. The warm puffs of breath against his skin are soothing, and he wants to drop off to sleep, but knows he can’t. 

“Let’s go home,” Jensen tells him softly after ten or so minutes of letting their bodies and minds and hearts realign. 

Jared tenses, tries to hide it. “Yeah, uh. Sorry, I. Wasn’t trying to, to sleep with you. I mean, stay the night, sleeping--”

“No?” Jensen asks, picking himself up from the bed. He throws on a pair of yoga pants and a black henley, watching Jared’s forlorn expression as he goes to find his clothes. “I guess I wasn’t specific enough. I meant, let's go to _my_ home, Jay.”

There’s a beat, and Jensen knows this will set the tone for either the fizzle out or the spark of fire. Jensen does not expect to be pressed bodily against the wall of his trailer by a still-naked, warm, smiling Jared and kissed within an inch of his life, but he would have laughed if six hours ago someone had told him this would happen, so he goes with it. Happily.

The drive to set the next morning is different for a couple reasons. There’s no bodyguard driving up front, because Jensen had requested to bring them in himself, driving his own truck, his set bicycle in the bed. It was such an odd request that Clif had called Jared to confirm he wasn’t be held hostage at a hippie commune. Also, Jensen’s not used to Jared’s devastating sleepy-morning smile and long fingers weaving in and out of his own. He has a feeling he’ll never get used to it, hopes he never does. 

“I want to say a couple things,” Jensen says as they near their exit. He wants to keep this conversation brief, to the point, so Jared has time to think before he makes his decision.

“Okay,” Jared murmurs, putting his phone down and turning his full attention on him. How has Jensen gone through the past nine years without craving that attention, those gorgeous eyes on him? Jared has one of his many beanies on, hiding the soft downy hair growing back in, and it makes him look more like the Jared he’s known for the past decade: irritatingly beautiful. Hair or no hair, wig or no wig, hat or no hat. Jensen just wants him, however he can, however Jared will let him. 

“You gave me a little insight last night on why you like what you like. For the past nine years, you’ve been living a lie at the place you spend most of your time-- on set. You wanted someone to see beyond that, right? Needed it.” Jensen knows there’s a lot more involved, but he’s trying to stick to the basics. 

“I-- not just _someone,_ Jensen.” There’s a lot in the blush suddenly staining Jared's cheeks that Jensen wants to investigate further, but there’s time for that later. “But, yeah. That’s a pretty good start.”

“So, I wanted to let you know,” Jensen sighs, hoping this will go over as smoothly as he hopes, “my role here is not to be your dom. I can’t ever be that for you, Jared.”

Jared’s eyebrows scrunch together. “But--”

“And more than that, you’re not my sub. I don’t get off on hurting you, controlling you. I went into all this hippie shit,” he grins at Jared, “to learn what it was I really wanted, why it is I like doing for you what you want, how to control my impulse to always try to fix things, even if they aren't broken. That's why I can't go down the road of just being someone's Dom again, because I never really liked it, nor was I really, completely successful at it.”

“And why’s that?” Jared doesn’t look skeptical, exactly. But he does look like he’s bracing for a blow. 

“Because, baby. My role, what I like, is to be whoever you want me to be, to give you whatever you want. After last night, I think I have a pretty good idea-- but there’s no limit. The trust you give me, it’s my job to take that, and cherish that, and do whatever I can to keep that. To show you how grateful I am that it’s mine. That's not to say, baby, that Doms don't fill those roles. But this feels different, to me. It feels like what I've been missing, why it never really clicked before."

He takes a deep breath, pressing on. "It feels like I would do just about anything to keep you looking at me the way you looked at me last night. I want to give you this, me, all of me. I think, uh. I think I might need to." He looks over at Jared, who's smiling softly at his lap. This time, the 'message received' part of his brain is satisfied. Jensen impressed upon Jared exactly what he hoped to. "Is that okay?”

Jared looks out the window for a little while, thinking. He’s still playing with Jensen’s fingers, though, so Jensen isn’t too worried. 

“Does that mean I can fuck you?” Jared asks finally, turning the full force of his smile against Jensen. 

Jensen, actually, has never bottomed either. He has a type, okay? But he’s finding it increasingly difficult to deny Jared anything, so he just grins. 

“Wanna get me on my back, huh?”

“As long as you put me in my place afterwards,” Jared sighs, grinning, like he's already thinking about how good it will be. His fingers tighten around Jensen's knuckles, the long digits soft, but strong. He squeezes Jensen's fingers, then lifts his hand to his morning-pink mouth, placing a bold, tender kiss against Jensen's palm. 

“Your place,” Jensen tells him firmly, “is right here. For as long as you want it to be.”

"I meant what I said last night," Jared says abruptly, turning those eyes on Jensen. "I wanna be yours. Let me, let me be yours. Okay, Jen?"

Jensen smiles, feeling his face heat up. This man has turned his life upside down in less than twenty-four hours, but he knows, "If anyone is anyone's, Jay, I'm yours."

"Let me have you then, baby. Please." Jared's eyes are almost pleading, and Jensen gets it. He needs to hear the claim, the ownership. The knowing that he's good enough to be had by someone he wants. "I wanna-- it's what I want. More than anything."

Jensen smiles, a little pink. "Oh, you're mine, sweet boy. Make no mistake, I'm not letting you out of my sight anymore, if I can help it. There's not a whole lot you can do about that, I'm afraid." He changes lanes for their turn, mostly to turn his pink face away. He hasn't blushed this much in years, at least twenty. What has this kid _done_ to him?

Jared smiles a little, obviously pleased with the possessive streak showing through Jensen's words. Then it stretches into a smirk. “You know you talk like a book, right? It’s pretty, but I didn’t think people actually said that stuff.”

Jensen scoffs. “I read a lot of poetry, okay?”

Jared is still cackling as they pull onto the lot.

After an impromptu makeout session in the front seat that leaves Jensen panting and half-hard (Jared had all but crawled across the bench seat to get in his lap), they have to split up, Jensen to hair and makeup, Jared to wardrobe to get his jeans tailored. “They better be goddamned perfect,” Jared snips, stomping up to the door, banging on it insistently. “Perfect, Kelly! Do you hear me?”

They talked about that, too-- whether Jensen wanted Jared to stop acting like a little diva on set. He surprised Jared by saying no. He wants Jared to be comfortable, and if his princess meatsuit fits him (Jensen got a punch in the arm for that), then he should wear it. Plus, Jensen kind of likes the idea of being the only one to see Jared for who he truly is. If the idiots they work with don’t want to take the time to look, why should Jared show them? But, as he told Jared, it was absolutely his choice, and he'd back him in whatever he decided. He hopes, in time, Jared will understand how far that support stretches.

Jensen is getting his hair fixed when the PA announces worriedly that Jared’s coming. But instead of jumping up this morning, Jensen just smiles and says, “thanks.”

“Maybe you should go over to makeup,” Jeannie hedges, exchanging a concerned glance with the PA.

He puts a reassuring hand on her forearm, the familiar sounds of his meditation music humming softly in the background. “It’s all right. Promise.” He hears the PA leave, and he closes his eyes, body thrumming. Waiting.

Jared stomps in thirty seconds later, beanie firmly in place. There is a sperm-count killing energy drink in one hand (Jensen is definitely gonna have to offer him a coconut water today), and he's thumbing through his phone with the other. He starts to head over to hair, on autopilot, but stops short when he sees Jensen smiling benignly from his seat. 

“Thought maybe you could do makeup first today, Jay,” he says quietly, firmly, holding Jared’s gaze. 

Every eyeball in the room widens-- Jared’s, because he already knows what Jensen is doing when he calls him Jay. He might be a sweet thing, but he's also incredibly smart. It may sound like a suggestion to everyone else, but it’s a veiled order that Jensen knows Jared is trying his hardest not to buckle his knees and follow. Everyone else is shocked, because not only did Jensen not flee, he _talked_ to Jared, and apparently they have nicknames with each other now. 

“Well?” Jared snaps suddenly, eyes darting around angrily. He's been standing motionless in the trailer, struck a little dumb by the timbre in Jensen's voice. Jared shoots him a quick wink, then his face hardens, and it makes Jensen grin. “Do I need to do my own goddamn makeup, or does someone who’s paid to do that wanna jump in?”

“Of course, Jared, sorry,” one of the braver makeup girls answers. 

“Don’t call me Jared!” he bellows. “I have a huge emotional scene today. Call me _Sam!_ Are you _deaf_ \--”

“Jay,” Jensen cuts in, chuckling. “Park that pretty little ass.” 

And to everyone’s surprise but his own, Jared parks it. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments mean the world to me, especially considering I've a) only written Sam/Dean and b) have never written a sex scene quite like that before.
> 
> Also, even though I used a lot of the Director's Cut for this, I pretended like Jared didn't mention his kids and wife just for the sake of simplicity in storytelling. No slight intended.


End file.
